


Draco's Redemption

by emikokobunnie



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-15
Updated: 2017-05-30
Packaged: 2018-09-24 15:17:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9767771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emikokobunnie/pseuds/emikokobunnie
Summary: After the war, Hermione goes to Oxford, a muggle university, to get away from the suffocating rebuilding of the magical community, but she runs into someone she never expected to see.  Is he looking for forgiveness in the wrong place? Or will they both be able to set aside their differences and help Draco Malfoy find the redemption he desperately needs?Set post-DH, non-canon.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! Thanks for reading. This is my very first submission, so I would really love any feedback! Don't be shy!

November 3rd was the first time she saw him again. She was rushing down the hallway on her way to class, shoving papers into her bag. She couldn’t believe it: it was only the first week of classes and she was already late. Hermione Granger was never late for class. Her roommate had thrown some sort of ridiculous get-to-know-everyone party and had kept her awake much later than she should have. She had hoped the frivolity had ended in Hogwarts, but apparently muggles got even crazier after leaving secondary. And with the amount of Americans on her floor, it was sure to be a year of dealing with loud, obnoxious music and pressure for her to goof off.  
She had just turned a corner, when she bumped her shoulder against someone’s. The angle of impact caused her to spin and fall flat on her ass, papers escaping from her overstuffed bag. A small “oof” flew out of her mouth as pain spread up her back.  
“I am so sorry,” a male voice apologized. It was a nice voice: gentle and polite. His enunciation suggested an aristocratic upbringing, but it wasn’t arrogant; it was soothing. A pale, well manicured hand moved into her line of sight, offering to help her to her feet. “I tried to move out of the way.”  
“It’s my fault,” she sighed. She was always bumping into people. Grateful for the help, she accepted his hand and he pulled her to her feet. Quickly releasing his hand, she reached to smooth down her skirt. “I really should be mo-” She had looked up at the man she had hit and her jaw dropped in astonishment. “Malfoy?” she sputtered.  
The kind, open expression that had lit up his face immediately hardened. “Oh, hello, Granger,” his haughty drawl had returned.  
“What in the world are you doing here?” Confusion clouded Hermione’s thought process. What could Draco Malfoy possibly be doing at Oxford, a very muggle university. He had to have gotten lost. Or maybe he had come here to kill her. The only people who knew she was going to college were Harry, the Weasleys, and McGonagall. It would have been very difficult for him to have found out where she was. THe former Death Eater sneered at her.   
“That’s none of your bloody business, is it, Granger?” His voice had dropped to a hostile whisper. The disappointment was clear on Hermione’s face. She had hoped that the animosity they held towards each other as children had disappeared after graduation. Or after she testified on his behalf during his trial. Harry and she had argued relentlessly to soften Draco’s sentence and had been able to change the Wizengamot’s minds from sending him to Azkaban to house arrest pending parole. But, despite all of that, it was clear that Draco still clung to his blood status superiority. The scar on her arm throbbed dully.   
“Right,” she bristled, “because a filthy mudblood like me-”  
“Don’t,” Draco’s voice came out small and strangled.  
“Sorry?”  
“Don’t say that word,” Draco sounded like he was in pain. “Don’t call yourself that.” His gray eyes looked straight into her brown ones. Hermione was stunned. Draco had called her a mudblood more times than she could count, but now the word made him uncomfortable? What had changed? Thinking back, he had completely stopped calling her that during their eighth year at Hogwarts. Instead, he became very quiet and studious, and any attempt to ridicule her fell short, like his heart wasn’t really into teasing her anymore. Most people had chalked it up to him being depressed that his family’s good name had been tarnished by their involvement with You-Know-Who, but Hermione had a feeling it went deeper than that.   
Coming back to reality, she opened her mouth to say something, but before she could, Draco jerked around and walked away, leaving her standing there, more confused than before.


	2. Chapter 2

A few weeks passed, and there was no sign of Malfoy. She had not seen hide nor tail of him anywhere in classes or campus. Hermione had purposefully walked down that hallway everyday since then, even if it was out of her way, in hopes that she would run into him again. For what, she had no idea. She hadn’t planned what she was going to say to him, but her curiosity of what exactly he was doing here had taken over everything else.   
It was one day when she was finally not actively looking for him that she found him. She had just bought herself a small salad from a café across the street from campus, when she saw him sitting at a table. He was absentmindedly nibbling on a sandwich, completely absorbed in the book he held in his hand. The breeze rustled his fair hair, making him look disheveled in a way Hermione had never seen. As a child, he was like a peacock, constantly preening himself to perfection. He had not allowed anyone to ever see him in any state less than presentable. She noticed he was wearing casual clothing as well. A soft-looking gray t-shirt and jeans had replaced the impeccable suits his family’s money bought him. If she didn’t know him, she would have thought him handsome.  
What really piqued her interest, however, was the book he was reading. She had shuffled towards him, attempting to make out what was on the cover, when his eyes flicked away from the page and onto her. His eyes bore into hers, and she felt stuck to the pavement. The intensity of his gaze brought a blush to her face. Only the honking of a car horn brought her to her senses. Realizing that she was caught staring at him, her blush deepened and she turned to walk away, when something else astonishing happened.  
“Hermione. Wait,” he called out to her. Again, Hermione stopped dead in her tracks. She felt her pulse racing in her ears. Why is her heart beating so fast? And did he just call her Hermione? She looked over her shoulder towards him and saw his hand waving her over. With steps full of hesitation, she forces one foot in front of the other until she’s hovering over his table. “Will you sit?” he asked, scampering to his feet to pull out a chair for her. Nodding, she accepted the chair and set her salad on the table in front of her.   
Draco settled back into his seat. An awkward silence filled the space between them. Minutes passed and, still, he said nothing. Hermione gazed at him, trying to read his expression. He looked like he’s in pain, but in an upset stomach way. More silence, and it’s starting to get to be too much for Hermione. Just as she’s about to dash away in an attempt to save face, Draco finally speaks. “I-I’m...sorry,” his face scrunched with distaste as the words leave his mouth. The look should have offended Hermione, but she was more concerned with the fact that Draco Malfoy had actually just apologized to her. She wanted to speak, but was afraid that it would scare him off, so, uncharacteristically, she kept her mouth shut and allowed him to work out whatever he had going on in his brain.   
Her lack of reaction made Draco blush. This wasn’t going as well as he had hoped. Yes, he absolutely wanted to apologize to her for reverting back to his vile self the other day, but her silence was so unlike the Hermione he knew. Her silence made him nervous, and so he started babbling. “I’m sorry about the other day. I didn’t mean to lash out at you like that. I left so quickly because I was embarrassed I spoke to you that way. I’ve been doing a lot of reevaluating, and, I know you probably don’t believe me, but I’ve decided to be different. I was just hoping that you would accept my apology. My tone was inexcusable. Although you did bump into me, but that was clearly an accident. You have always been so over excited about school, I shouldn’t be surprised that you just run around bumping into people. You used to do it all the time when we were kids.” He continued to ramble, but the mention of her younger self raised Hermione’s hackles.   
“There is nothing to be ashamed of for being attentive and putting school first,” her hair practically stood up straight in her anger, but Draco was already stammering out another apology.  
“No, no, no, I didn’t mean it in a bad way. I just meant - fuck - I didn’t mean...I just meant that I shouldn’t have been so surprised that it was you who bumped into me.” He laughed weakly, a small smile quirking up one side of his mouth. Hermione’s anger vanished just as quickly as it had appeared. What in the fuck was going on?   
They fell silent again, but this time it was Hermione who broke it: “You’ve been reevaluating?” She practically had to physically hold her tongue in order to keep it at that. She wanted to snap at him, but she was also interested to see what he had meant.  
“Yes,” his focus stayed on his book, but he kept speaking, “I want to change I don’t want to be filled with that nonsense my parents shoved into my brain as a child. I’ve had a lot of time to think and I want to be better.” This was too much. He wanted to be better? Sure, it was easy to be better after a war that practically tore the wizarding community in two and left hundreds dead. Hermione could hardly listen to what she was hearing.  
“Oh, you want to change now? Now that your precious master has lost? Now you feel bad for all of the people who died because of him, because of you?” Hermione shot to her feet, her chair clattering to the ground behind her. People walking by paused to look at them, but Hermione was too far gone in her rage. “You want to be better? Well, maybe you should have thought of that before you sat by and let your psychotic aunt torture me on your living room floor and carve this into my arm!” She shoved the sleeve up to show him the scar that she would always have to live with. He physically flinched away from the reminder. That night had haunted him, he could still hear her screams in his sleep, but he would be damned if he admitted that to her. He opened his mouth to argue back, but she beat him to it, “If it’s forgiveness you’re looking for, Malfoy, you won’t find it from me.” With that, she stormed away from the little table they had shared, leaving behind her salad and a defeated looking Draco.


	3. Chapter 3

Her anger wouldn’t subside. Hours later and she was still seething with rage. She couldn’t believe his audacity. He wanted to be forgiven? He wanted redemption for his past? How could he begin to believe that she, that anyone, would ever forgive him for his sins? It was too much. Pacing her dorm room, homework completely forgotten on her desk, it was taking all of her willpower to not go and find him just to shoot some hexes at him. Draco Malfoy, looking for redemption. The thought almost made her laugh out loud. But the longer she stayed angry, the more she realized that she needed to talk to Harry.   
Harry had fought harder than anyone to save Malfoy from Azkaban. He researched more thoroughly that he ever had at school, attended strategy meetings with Narcissa Malfoy, and never missed a single court date. He was adamant that Draco should not be found guilty for living a life he never asked for. Sure, Hermione had testified, told the Wizengamot that Draco was just a frightened boy, coerced into service by the mistakes of his father, but she had never really understood Harry’s intensity for helping Malfoy. And she had never expected Malfoy to be grateful for the second chance. Even without his actions in the war, Draco had been a spiteful, hateful little boy, who had done nothing but make their lives a living hell. And she would never forget seeing him stand in silence as Bellatrix Lestrange tortured her just because she was muggle born.   
Grabbing her coat, where she always had her wand secretly stashed, Hermione dashed down the hallway to where the garbage shoot was located. Looking around to make sure the coast was clear, she pulled out her wand and apparated on the spot. It was risky doing magic there, but Hermione’s patience was worn too thin. She couldn’t imagine the 20 minute walk just to get to a Ministry approved apparation point. It was absolutely vital that she speak with Harry. Now.  
With a faint “pop” Hermione was suddenly in the Weasley’s front yard. For a moment, she stood and took in the sights. The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows in the trees surrounding the house. The house itself was in dire need of repair. It was clear magic was holding up the house at its haphazard shape, the top floors leaning precariously towards the ground. Part of her wanted to shell out the money and fix the home of this family, her family, but another, more selfish, part didn’t want to see it change. This place was a monument of her childhood. She had found safety in those walls. After the war, she had called this place home, returning during holidays from school, moving into the spare room Molly had magicked into existence after graduation. When she had announced that she would be going to university to continue her education, Molly had thrown a party, cooking more food than any of them could possibly eat. Somehow, the Weasley’s had become her family, bandaging over the loss of her own.   
She was disrupted in her thoughts by Ginny opening the front door. “How long are you going to stand there?” she yelled across the distance. A wide grin broke out over Hermione;s face as she ran to embrace the girl she thought of as a sister. She pulled Ginny in close, taking comfort in something familiar. Her urgency alerted Ginny to something wrong. “What’s wrong, love?”  
Sighing, Hermione released Ginny, “Is Harry here? I need to talk to him.” Nodding, Ginny ushered her into the house.  
“He’s upstairs,” Ginny told her, “go quick before mum sees you.” Squeezing her hand in gratitude, Hermione took the stairs two at a time until she came to the room Harry and GInny shared. After a short, sharp rap of her fingers against the door, she was greeted by a messy haired Harry.   
“Hermione,” he rubbed his eyes full of sleep, “What’s up?”  
“I saw Draco,” Hermione blurted out. Taking a moment to process what she said in his groggy state, he silently opened the door to allow her to enter. She slipped past him and settled in the desk chair while he shut the door. She was ringing her hands together when he turned to look at her.   
“So,” he started, but hesitated. He could feel her agitation from across the room. It had been a while since he had seen Hermione in this state. Since the war, not a lot had fazed her. She took every shocking event with a silent grace that he had never seen in her before. First, it was her parents. Being unable to figure out how to reverse the memory spell she had placed on them to keep them safe, Hermione had accepted their loss a lot better than he had imagined. Then there was the thing with Ron. He was a good guy, who meant well, but he was clueless when it came to girls. He started a relationship with Hermione, still seeing her as the girl he knew in school. Post-war Hermione, however, was different, and Ron couldn’t handle it. She was too silent now, too passive. She wouldn’t argue with him anymore, but would just get up and walk out of the room, leaving him to try and figure out what he had done wrong on his own. Ron wasn’t the type to work things out alone. He needed that push that Hermione had always offered in the past. So instead of working on it, they had called it quits, saying that they were better as friends. He had never seen Hermione so...unemotional. Seeing her now, so worked up over seeing Draco, Harry was surprised, and relieved. His curiosity was piqued, “You saw Draco?”  
“Yes, I saw Draco, and he was...he was completely different!” She sprang to her feet and started pacing the room. “I mean, he’s at uni! What is he doing at uni? And why is he calling me Hermione? He apologized to me, Harry! Since when does Draco Malfoy apologize? Since when does he have any idea that he wants to change? I mean, he watched me be tortured, for Merlin’s sake, and now he wants to be forgiven? How could he possibly think that I could forget something like that?” Hermione threw her hands in the air. This whole situation was completely ridiculous.   
“Why do you think he’s asking you to forget that?” Hermione stopped dead in her tracks, turning to stare at Harry, dumbfounded  
“What?”  
“Why do you think he’s asking you to forget what happened? Did he say that?” Hermione’s mind reeled. Draco had never asked her to forget, he had only expressed that he wanted to change, be different than the boy they all knew.   
“Well, no, he didn’t.”   
“So, then, why are you assuming he wants you to forget? Why are you assuming he wants anyone to forget?” Harry rubbed his hands against his thighs, looking like he wanted to say something, but shouldn’t. Hermione knew that look.   
“What aren’t you saying, Harry?”  
“Look, I spent a lot of time with him, preparing him for his trial. I got to know him fairly well, and, honestly, he’s not as bad as he used to be. He was scared, Hermione, he still is. And I think a big step in him recovering and moving forward in his life is knowing that people see him as a human being. Especially people who have no reason to see him that way.” Harry reached a hand up to scratch the back of his neck. “He’s not asking for you to forget what happened, he’s asking you to know that it happened and want him to be better. He needs people to believe in him in a way that he hasn’t had in his life.”   
Hermione was too shocked to speak. He needs support? Like he was an addict going through rehab? Like he was a victim in the crimes he committed against his community, against her? It was hard for Hermione to see him that way, hell, it was nearly impossible. Draco Malfoy was a proud man, and he never showed weakness. How had Harry fallen for this bullshit?  
“Harry, are you hearing yourself? This is Draco Malfoy we’re talking about!”  
“Exactly!” Harry’s eyes glistened with righteous indignation, “This is Draco, a boy we’ve known since we were eleven years old! A boy who grew up in a cold, abusive household! A boy who was coerced into submission by a mad man threatening his family! Tell me, Hermione, that you wouldn’t have done the exact same thing as him if someone was threatening to kill your mum and dad if you didn’t do as you were told.” Harry walked over to her and placed a hand gently on her arm. Tears had unknowingly sprung to her eyes at Harry’s words. “He’s just a kid, ‘Mione. Just like you and me. Voldemort forced his hand. And what happened to you, on his living room floor, will haunt him for the rest of his life. Are you really going to condemn a child for doing what he felt was his only option to save his family?”   
“He could have switched sides. He could have fought for the right side.” Hermione protested, but it was half-hearted, and Harry knew it. Hermione knew what Draco had gone through, she had been there at his trial. She had heard everything he had experienced in his childhood home. He had stayed stoic the entire time, never allowing a single emotion to break the surface. She knew the cold, hard facts of Draco’s situation. She just hadn’t wanted to hear it.   
“Since when has a Malfoy been a martyr, Hermione? Draco has never pretended to be anything else but who he is. And who he is deserves every chance at a better life, just like the rest of us do.” Harry walked over to the door of his bedroom and opened it, allowing Hermione to step out into the hallway. “The war is over. We aren’t in danger anymore. So stop fighting, ‘Mione.” And with that he shut the door in her face, effectively ending the conversation.


	4. Chapter 4

Hermione returned to school, lost in thought over what Harry had said. She was disappointed in herself. Wasn’t it just yesterday that she was seeking him out? Wasn’t she the one who had been hoping he had changed, that they could move past the ridiculous rivalry they had? And when he had finally said the words she wanted to hear, when he had finally apologized for his past, she threw it back in his face.  
When had she become this person? She believed in justice, she believed in people facing the consequences of their actions, but what had Draco really done? He had taunted her, laughed at her faults, pointed out the things she wanted everyone to pretend weren’t there; and, later, he had joined the wrong side of a war, intimidated into following a cruel man just because of his name. Now, in the aftermath of her hateful words towards him, she could only think of what her parents would say if they could see her. They would surely be disappointed. They would reprimand her for slapping away Draco’s hand of apology. They would have urged her to call a truce, if not for him, but for herself. She was young, a mere twenty-one years old. She was too young to be carrying around so much hate and anger in her heart.   
And that’s when it really clicked. She shouldn’t be like this. She shouldn’t have seen the things she’s seen and done the things she’s done. She should have been worrying about school and boys, not suffering from post traumatic stress disorder. So, why wouldn’t it be the same for Draco? Why did he deserve a lifetime of pain because of her? If he could find his redemption through her, why shouldn’t she give that to him? He was the same age as her, he had been through the same terrible war that had left too many unseen scars. If he had a shot at finding any kind of happiness in this life, she would give it to him. He deserved it. They all did.   
Her mind was made up. The next time she saw him, she would apologize, and give him what he was looking for. She would forgive him of his past, and help him with his future. Maybe they could even be friends.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

What else did he expect? It had been a while since Draco drowned himself in self-pity, but he allowed it this time. He had tried. He had put everything he had left on the line, attempting to apologize. He had been through too much for his age. He was tired of fighting. All he wanted was to try and salvage any kind of happiness he could have. He didn’t expect much from his people. He knew that they saw his name and cringed away from him. His name was as toxic as the alcohol he was drinking.  
How could he have seen any other possible outcome? After everything he had done to her, how could he have hoped for anything else? He had been cruel to her for so long, he had taunted and tormented her any chance he could, and then that night with his aunt. That night was burned onto the insides of his eyelids. He still had nightmares about it. He would wake up, thrashing, hearing her screams ringing through his ears, the dead look of defeat in her eyes pressing down on his chest. There was a reason he had singled Hermione Granger out to apologize to: she was the only one who could free him from this. He had heard many screams of pain in the few years Voldemort had taken residence in his family home. He had seen bodies, limp in death, scattered in the hallways, but it was Hermione who stuck with him. It was only ever her screams he heard. And she was the only one who could save him in a way he could never save her in his mind.   
He drained the rest of his drink, silently motioning to the bartender for another. A fresh cup of scotch was placed in front of him. Draco held it up, staring into the amber liquid. He had no idea why he was drinking. Alcohol only made the nightmares worse. But his waking thoughts were intolerable, and at least he had some kind of power to control those. His eyes slipped closed as he brought the cool glass to his lips. The burn in the back of his throat was nothing compared to the fire that was caged inside.  
A hand clapped down on his shoulder and his eyes fluttered open to take in the sight of Blaise Zabini sliding onto the stool next to him. Zabini was one of the only people from his past life he kept in contact with. Him and Pansy had saved him from too many nights of drinking himself stupid. How Blaise had known he was at that particular bar tonight, however, was a mystery. “You look terrible, mate.”  
“I feel terrible.” It had originally been Blaise’s idea to change. His family had never really believed in all the blood-status nonsense. Not saying that they weren’t elitists, they did believe they were better than everyone else; but that’s because they were Zabinis, not because they were pure-bloods. Blaise had been raised to believe that blood didn’t make a person great or weak, it was their ambition that truly showed a person’s capability. Had Hermione’s parents still been around, the Zabinis would probably have approached them to marry her off to their son. It was one night, when Draco had drunkenly told Blaise that he could hear her screaming in his mind, that he had suggested Draco apologize. Since then it had been all they talked about. Finally, Draco had an outlet to discuss the one person who was constantly on his mind.   
“Did you talk to her?” Blaise asked while attempting to catch the bartender’s eye.   
“Yeah.” Draco hadn’t decided whether he wanted to talk about it yet or not. The pain was still fresh in his mind.  
“Well?” Blaise finally asked after flagging down the bartender and ordering a glass of water. He hadn’t been much of a drinker recently.   
“It went about as well as my final exams sixth year.”  
“That bad, huh?” Blaise chuckled, “Well can you really blame her?”  
“No...no I can’t.” Draco fell silent, staring into his cup. Blaise saw the look on his face and said nothing. Sometimes all Malfoy needed was a minute to compose himself. A year ago, Draco would have rather cut off his own hand than let anyone see him like this. But that was a different time. It was now, after acting like that for so long and getting nothing in return, that Draco had allowed people to see the cracks in his facade. Blaise felt like he knew Draco better now than he ever had as a child. It was because of that that Blaise had pushed him so hard to get Hermione to forgive him. If Hermione Granger could forgive him, then the rest of the magical community could too.   
“I say try again.” Blaise declared after five minutes of Draco’s brooding.   
“Sure, let me just go embarrass myself, yet again, in front of her.”   
“No, really. Think about it,” Blaise turned in his seat to face Draco. He waved his hands in excitement, “It must have been jarring for her to hear you, the Draco Malfoy, actually apologizing for something. She’s hasn’t seen you in years, she doesn’t know who you are now. All she knows about you is what’s she’s seen in the past. Show her you’re different now. Show her how serious you are about being better.”  
“How do you suggest I get her to listen to me?” Draco was interested now.   
“Ask her to dinner. Take her somewhere public where she can’t lose control and yell or throw hexes at you. That way she has to listen. One thing I know about Granger is that she hates being impolite. If you’re at a fancy restaurant, she won’t cause a scene.” Blaise was proud of himself. The idea had just come to him in that moment, but it was genius. Granger had always hated being the center of attention. She wouldn’t risk raising her voice in a nice place, and she would be too polite to get up and walk away.   
Draco was quiet as he thought about Blaise’s plan. It, honestly, wasn’t a bad idea. Plus, he’d get to have dinner with Hermione. The thought of Hermione in a little black dress and heels made his heart flip flop in his chest. She was very attractive. He wouldn’t complain about being seen in public with a girl like her. But the opportunity to trap her into listening to what he had to say was very appealing. He had already tried talking to her in a situation where she was free to leave and it hadn’t worked well for him. This seemed like his best option. “It’s not your worst idea…” Draco admitted.   
“There you go!” Blaise couldn’t believe Draco was actually going for it. “Let’s figure out where you should take her.” And the two boys started to plan out the evening of wooing Hermione Granger.


	5. Chapter 5

Draco prowled the dormitory floor. There was a large, loud party in progress, and he was absolutely sure there was no way in hell that Hermione would be here, but Harry had insisted. He had apparently just received a letter from Hermione complaining that her roommate was throwing another ridiculous party. So when Draco asked Harry how best to approach Hermione, Harry had suggested showing up at her dorm. He didn’t think it was such a good idea. Knowing Hermione, this party was probably putting her on edge, and she would be biting if she saw him. Maybe if he got some alcohol in her, that would relax her enough to listen to his proposal.   
Music poured out of speakers from every dorm room he passed. The tenants had opened every door of the hallway and mingled in rooms and out in the hallway. Draco could feel eyes flickering towards him as he surreptitiously look around for Hermione. Girls would look him up and down while helpless boys attempted to hit on them. If it had been five years ago, Draco would have relished in the attention. He probably would have even winked at some of the girls and steal them away from their conversations. But now, he didn’t see anyone else, all he saw was Hermione. He was peering into a room, hoping that Hermione would be in there, when a girl confidently pushed away from the wall and blocked his way.   
“Hi, I’m Emily,” she shoved a hand out for Draco to shake. He looked down at her extended hand and back up at her. She had blonde hair, blue eyes, and was wearing half a shirt and shorts that left half her ass hanging out of them. Her freckles, cowboy boots, and accent signaled to Draco that she was American. Obnoxiously so. Annoyance filled Draco when she wouldn’t stand down at his indifference.   
“I’m looking for my girlfriend,” he said, voice hard with impatience. He saw the girl wilt slightly, but she continued on in her pursuit.   
“Well, who is she? I can probably point you in the right direction,” she smiled and rested a hand on his arm, “I know everyone here.”   
Draco looked down at her hand on his arm. This girl was asking for trouble, and she didn’t know how little he wanted to play this game. “I’m more than confident that you won’t know her. You’re not exactly the type she hangs around.”   
It was like he had slapped her in the face. The smile disappeared from Emily’s face, and, for a moment, she looked stunned at his comment. Then she looked angry. “Try me.”  
Draco sighed in frustration. How dumb was this girl? How did she even get into Oxford with that ditzy blonde head of hers? He was tempted to just walk away, but he honestly wasn’t having any luck finding Hermione. If this girl really knew everyone she would make his night a lot easier. “Her name’s Hermione.”  
Emily let out short bark of laughter. “Hermione has a boyfriend?”   
“I’m assuming she doesn’t talk about me much?”   
“Much? She’s never mentioned you at all, actually. And I’ve lived with her for the last three months.” Shit. Of course, the one girl who approached him at this party had to be Hermione’s roommate.   
“She doesn’t like to brag,” Draco was suddenly nervous. He was good at putting up a front, but this girl must know Hermione a little better than anyone else here. If he said the wrong thing, she’d never show him where Hermione was. “I am quite a catch.”  
“Sure,” Emily waved a hand down the hall. “She’s in our room. Last one on the left.” Draco looked down the hall and saw the only closed door on the floor. Of course that was her room. Her turned back to Emily to nod in thanks and rushed to their room before someone else could stop him.   
Coming to the door, he suddenly hesitated. This could go badly. Very badly. Hermione would probably hex him as soon as she sees him. Deciding that he shouldn’t show up empty handed, he ducked into the room across the hall and grab a couple of the mixed drinks they had sitting out for everyone. He silently waved his hand over the cups, casting an appearance charm to make sure no one had slipped any drugs into them. Finding them safe to consume, he went back to her door and knocked.   
Hermione opened the door, her mouth already open to fend off whoever was bothering her, but stopped when she saw Draco. Her mouth hung open, unable to form a coherent sentence from the jumbled mess in her head. Nervously, Draco held out a drink towards her, “Can we talk?” Hermione looked from the drink back to his face, the indecision clear on her face, but Draco wasn’t going to back down. Finally, she slowly reached a hand out to take the cup Draco offered, and stepped back to allow him into the room. As he stepped across the threshold, he looked to his left down the hallway to see Emily and group of three other girls gaping at what they were witnessing. Hermione Granger letting a boy into her room. A very attractive boy. Draco smirked a them and disappeared into the room, Hermione closing the door behind him.   
Once inside, they both awkwardly stood beside each other, both afraid to move further into the small room. The space was cramped with too large furniture. Two beds stood on opposite sides of the room with two desks, backs against the wall, between them. It was clear which side of the room was Hermione’s. Her desk was scattered with books and papers. She also had a laptop, something Draco had seen others have in his classes, but he didn’t entirely understand the functioning. Her bed was an absolute horror show. The blankets were a knotted mess with pillows and stuffed animals thrown about its surface. This surprised Draco. He had assumed Hermione would be much neater. Her walls were bare, a single picture frame with Harry and the Weasley’s, magicked to be still, her only decoration. In summary, her side of the room was depressingly empty.   
“So, this is your room,” he attempted conversation. He had come here for a reason, to get an answer to move his plan in motion. The only way to do that was to get Hermione to relax, even a little, in his presence.   
“Yes, I was just doing some homework.”  
“I can see that,” Draco looked down at her. She was almost a head shorter than him, her once bushy hair now sleek and falling halfway down her back. Her yoga pants and tank top showed off her soft curves. Draco was amazed at how much he had missed. He could only remember her, at thirteen years old, bucktoothed and shy, determined to prove how useful she was despite her heritage. What had he missed between then and now?   
“Did you need something?” Hermione asked softly, taking a big swig of the drink to hide her face from him.   
“Uh-yeah, yeah I um…” his palms started to sweat. This could potentially go very wrong. “Look, I know you were mad the other day, but if you could just give me the chance to explain, to really just sit down and talk, and you can ask me whatever you want, then I’m hoping that you can be less angry with me.”   
Hermione was silent, thinking over what he had said. She was fighting every instinct in her body to not flinch away from his proximity. He was standing much too close to her, she could feel the heat radiating off of him. But after hearing what Harry had said about him, she had decided to give him a chance. She just hadn’t expected him to come find her so soon. “Well, what did you have in mind?”  
“Dinner,” Draco blurted out, “I want to take you to dinner.”  
Hermione’s eyebrows shot up, “You want to buy me dinner?”   
“Yes, I just want-”  
“Ok.”   
“O-ok?” Draco stuttered. He hadn’t expected her to agree so readily.   
“Ok,” a small smile played on her lips. “I’ll go to dinner with you.”  
“Wow-I mean, great!” Draco licked his dry lips. “Does next Friday work for you?”  
“Next Friday is perfect, actually.”  
“Ok, next Friday then. Wear something nice.” He moved towards the door, hand on the handle when Hermione asked him a question.  
“How did you know where to find me?”  
“Oh, Harry told me.” he dropped a wink at her and slipped out the door.


End file.
